


Primary Season

by velocitygrass



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Closeted Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 19:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Governor John Sheppard is widower and aspiring presidential candidate. Rodney McKay is his new communications manager. With Rodney's help, John's campaign manages to close the distance to the favorite to win, Cameron Mitchell. However, with the nomination and a likely general election win within reach, John has to realize that his feelings for Rodney could be the one issue that can still stop him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New Man on the Team

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to supergreak for going over this :)
> 
> Please make sure to check out kay_greatness' wonderful campaign posters and additional art at [DW](http://kay-greatness.dreamwidth.org/1538.html) or [LJ](http://kay-greatness.livejournal.com/12278.html).

Rodney McKay was not like John expected. He entered John's office with a laptop and an arm full of documents. Instead of an introduction, McKay said this:

"You know who I am, and I know who you are, so let's cut to the chase and not waste anyone's time. You're young, but not so young that it's a serious problem. You've been two-term governor in a traditionally Republican state. You're a decorated military hero. You're a business owner. You have two well-behaved kids, who'll be an asset to your campaign. You're a moderate, who positions himself in the middle of the political spectrum, and you make it look like true belief rather than just expediency. Women want to date you or be your daughter or mother-in-law, and men want to drink a beer with you or play golf with you or lead this country with you. You're almost too good-looking, but with Mitchell as your biggest rival, that's not going to be an issue."

John didn't know what to say to any of that. And he didn't have to because McKay just continued.

"In fact, there's not much that's going to be an issue. One thing is that you're just a bit a boring, though I suppose we can and will work on that. The other thing is that you don't have a First Lady to offer to the nation. Your daughter can perform _some_ of the functions of a First Lady, but this will still be an issue even if nobody will hold it against you that you're a widower. I think we can work around that, but there's one thing I need to know before I'll agree to come on board and help you become the next president of the United States."

McKay gave him an intense look for a moment before continuing. "Why aren't you in a new relationship?"

John's mouth opened in surprise.

"Now I know the nice story of taking care of your kids, country comes first and all that jazz, but it's been seven years, and you haven't so much as gone on a date with someone," McKay continued.

John had been warned that McKay could be tactless, but he didn't expect this. Certainly not before McKay was even on board his campaign. "I do not see how that will be an issue. As you said—"

"I'm not talking about how we spin it," McKay interrupted him. "I'm talking about the truth. Your life as governor was sheltered compared to what's about to happen. You'll be meeting good-looking, intelligent, nice, ruthless women every day who might either desperately want to be First Lady or who'll simply fall in love with you because you're _you_. And I can tell you now that life is not a romantic comedy. You can develop a relationship or run a campaign, but not _both_ and the slightest distraction will cost us votes. This won't be a cake walk. You've got what it takes, but if I'm investing almost a year into this, if not more, I don't want to lose just because you can't keep it in your pants."

"McKay!" John said sharply. "It will _not_ be a problem, and that's the end of this discussion."

"Look, I _know_ it's none of my business. I'm not doing this as an attack on your honor or whatever else you think. I just need to know the truth. I've been burned before in a different campaign, so yes, maybe I'm a bit overcautious, but it's not going to happen again to me. The way I see it, there are only three options: One, you've already had relationships—or encounters—with women since your wife's death but you managed to keep them discreet. If that's the case I need to know, because I need to disabuse you of the notion that you could count on it remaining a secret. And I don't care how nice or trustworthy these women are. You're no longer running a little state in the Midwest. This is the _big_ prize. Two, you're aware that you couldn't trust anyone to keep a tryst secret so you've kept yourself in check. If it's this, I'll give you props for wanting this much more than you let on. And that wouldn't be a bad thing, but it would still be a risk because you never know when someone will come along that you can't just ignore. Three, your wife was honestly the love of your life and you'll be forever heart-broken about her death. You don't advertise this fact because you're either ashamed or think it makes you seem vulnerable. If it's this I can assure you that it will only make you look more human, and we don't have to talk about this or have it be a part of your campaign. But I still need to know, because I'm not entering this without knowing the risks."

John stared at him. For all of McKay's brilliance, he certainly didn't know _everything_. John was tempted to rub it in his face, but it would only give McKay what he wanted, and John had drawn a line which he wasn't about to cross. "It will not be a problem," he repeated firmly.

"Okay," McKay said, sighing in disappointment. "Good luck with your campaign. These are a few ideas I've been working on. It looks like I won't need them." He tossed the documents on the desk. "If you change your mind, you have my number. I'll be staying here for another night. After that I can't guarantee I won't have other commitments." He turned and left without another word.

~~

Damn, McKay was good.

He didn't seem to have even a vague notion of appropriate interpersonal behavior, but as far as messaging went, he was a master. John went through the subtle list of changes that McKay had compiled from John's campaign website and found himself thinking, "Yes, this is _exactly_ what I want to say."

John knew that he didn't have the nomination in the bag by any means. Mitchell was a favorite of the more liberal side of his party, and while John had some enthusiastic support both in the base and the establishment, he was going to need any help he could get to bring this home.

And letting McKay go wouldn't just mean losing that resource but also the possibility of him working for Mitchell.

John almost wished he hadn't read McKay's suggestions. He still thought that McKay had been way out of line with his question. He had absolutely no right to ask, let alone demand an answer as an ultimatum.

Giving in would give McKay the idea that he was entitled to an answer, and even as a public figure John had always maintained certain areas of his life as off limits: his children and his feelings. He could talk all day long about his love for his country. He could be passionate about politics (even though McKay had been right that he had to work on that). But the reasons for not having a relationship after his wife's death were light years outside the spectrum of emotions he was willing to discuss with anyone let alone a guy he didn't know.

But he couldn't let McKay slip through his fingers. So John swallowed his pride and called McKay.

"I'm having dinner in my hotel room," McKay told him. "I have to work. If you want to talk to me, you can do it over the phone or join me."

So John went. His campaign manager, Karen, was anxious to see if they would get McKay on board. Karen had been a friend of his wife and had soon become a good friend of the family. She'd encouraged John to run for president, and he trusted her to run his campaign. She was happy when John told her he'd go see McKay again, but John told her that it wasn't a done deal yet.

He didn't know what he was going to tell McKay. Certainly not the truth. Though there wasn't just a single truth. Of the three options that McKay had offered, the second was part of John's motivation. He didn't think of himself as a ruthless career politician, but he was a pragmatist, and McKay knowing _that_ was something he didn't have a problem with.

And he wasn't going to allow McKay to just steamroll him with another avalanche of words. So when McKay let him in, John didn't say hello first.

"My lack of relationships isn't going to be a problem because I _say_ it's not going to be a problem. This isn't my first rodeo. I've been running campaigns for twelve years, and I've won _all_ of my elections. You think I've been fooling around with people and think I can keep that a secret in a presidential campaign? I'm neither arrogant nor stupid enough to believe that, and I need my cash for other things than bribes."

McKay looked vaguely impressed by John's tirade. "We need to work on funneling some of this energy into your speeches."

John blinked. He hadn't thought it would be this easy. "So you're in?"

"I didn't say _that_ ," McKay said. "You still haven't answered my question."

"You don't have to worry about any surprises, past or present," John said.

"Because you trust yourself not to be distracted by a woman entering your life, no matter how perfect she may seem?" McKay pressed on.

"I can guarantee it," John said without hesitation.

McKay gave him a long look. "Are you gay?"

John gaped. Nobody had ever asked him that. As far as he knew, nobody had even ever asked this _about_ him.

"Look, I have no problem with that," McKay said as if John had confirmed his suspicion, "and I have to admit, I never heard so much as a peep about this, but you have to know that no matter how long ago, that guy that you made out with in high school is going to come crawling out of the woodwork at some point and—"

"There is nobody," John said coldly.

"What, not even an experimental kiss? A little jerk-off session among boys? Being caught looking at other guys' junk in the shower? Come on!" McKay told him, clearly unbelieving.

"There is nobody," John repeated. "It won't be an issue."

McKay looked at him. "That's pretty fucked up."

"Who are you to judge me?" John demanded.

"I'm not judging you," McKay said. "I just think it's really fucked up that you're gay but haven't so much as kissed another guy. It's sad really. That we still live in world that made you think it was necessary."

"I've been willing to make sacrifices for the choices I made. When I went into the Air Force I didn't take a cushy desk job. I flew combat missions. I _earned_ my salary when I worked for our company, and I worked my ass off to get elected to the state Senate and still found time to play with my kids. I didn't want people to vote for me because I could sink more money into airtime than my opponent. I wanted to win because people got to know me and wanted me to represent them. And I always wanted a family. My choices aren't the easy ones. But some things in life are worth doing even if they're hard. _Especially_ if they're hard."

"Okay, you're giving me goose bumps," McKay said. "And it's frightening that I actually believe that you mean every word you say."

"Well, get used to it. I'm not the guy to talk to you if you want lofty promises. I get the appeal of following your dreams, but what's the point when you can't achieve them? And I tell you that voters get that. It might not be as flashy as a simple slogan, but if you talk to people and tell them the truth, most will understand it. It takes time but it's worth it," John said.

"There's no need to tell me about your campaign strategy," McKay said. "If I didn't think it might work, I'd never have agreed to even talk to you. You're an optimistic pragmatist. You're solid. You're _honest_ , which is more than you can say about most politicians. We need to work on getting across that what you offer is exactly what they want. And we really need to work on your passion. Right now it's hit and miss. From now on I want you to talk like you just talked to me every time you speak into a microphone or to a voter. People think you're too stiff. And it's really too bad that your wife is dead and your kids too old to play with them. And no, riding out with your daughter doesn't count. It only made you look like an elitist rich guy. There's no need to look more Republican than the Republicans, okay? So please cut that out."

"I know that was a mistake," John conceded. "I'm not going to forbid my daughter to go riding, but I won't be posing for photos anymore. But since we're beginning to talk about campaign details now, can I call Karen and tell her that you'll join us?"

"What? Is she waiting outside?" McKay joked.

John snorted. "No, but I bet she's staring at the phone at the moment. We have a lot of work ahead of us."

"We sure do," McKay said. "But I know we can win this." McKay grinned.

John couldn't help the answering grin. "We will," he said. He was a bit more certain of it than he'd been an hour ago.


	2. Becoming Frontrunner

Sometimes John really hated Rodney.

"I know that you don't want to talk about it. But you need to be able to at least articulate that in a way that makes people sympathetic and not wondering if you're hiding a problem."

"I think you'll understand that I'd prefer not to talk about that," John said stiffly.

"Nope. Not good enough," Rodney said.

John glared at him. "It was...hard for our whole family. My mother...my mother never truly recovered from Dave's death. When she died..."

"When she died..." Rodney prompted.

"You're a bastard," John said. "And nobody's going to keep pressing at that point. They'd look like a complete asshole."

"I think you completely underestimate what the media is willing to do for ratings," Rodney said.

John took a few deep breaths. He kept his gaze on the ground when he continued. "When she died, it felt as if the heart of our family was gone."

"John," Rodney said, his voice suddenly soft.

"If they _ever_ ask, I'm not going to answer, and if someone thinks I'm hiding something, it's _their_ problem. What would I be hiding anyway?" John asked.

"I'm sorry," Rodney said.

"No, you're not," John said. "But I appreciate you saying it."

Rodney smiled at him.

John shook his head but smiled back. There was a comfortable silence for a while. Then John asked. "Anything else? You want to ask what it was like to watch my mother die?"

Rodney hesitated.

"McKay?" John asked, slight warning in his voice.

"Not today," Rodney said.

"The answer is going to be the same," John said.

"There's only so often you can say 'I don't want to talk about it'," Rodney said.

"There's only so often someone'll will ask you about your dead loved ones," John countered.

"Well, it's not my fault you have so many of them," Rodney said.

John stared at him, unsure whether he should laugh or cry or hit Rodney. So he took the pillow on the sofa and creamed Rodney's face with it. "Never joke about my family. Dead or alive."

"I'll try to contain myself in the future," Rodney said dryly, touching his lips as if checking for blood.

"Don't worry. Your precious mouth is fine," John said.

"Well, then what should we do with _your_ sexy mouth now?" Rodney asked.

John tried _very_ hard to ignore Rodney's words, but he could _feel_ himself flush.

"You're doing it again," Rodney said.

"Then stop it!" John shot back.

"Stop what?" Rodney asked, challenge in his voice.

"You know exactly what," John said. For some reason, Rodney sometimes took completely innocent statements the wrong way _on purpose_ and taunted John by flirting with him. And John _always_ reacted, even though it was pretty clear by now that Rodney was just trying to prepare him for the eventuality of such a situation.

"You can't even say the word 'sexy'," Rodney said.

"I _can_ when it's _appropriate_ ," John said defensively.

"When would that be?" Rodney asked.

"'You're not wearing that dress. It's way too sexy,'" John said.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "It's okay to blush when you're called sexy. It was really charming during that MTV interview. But it's not what I want to see when a guy comes on to you."

"Because that's likely to going to happen on the trail," John said.

"It could," Rodney insisted. "What if you've got an ardent supporter and in sight of cameras he yells, 'Governor, I'd love to perform public service on your cock.'"

Jesus. John shifted in his seat.

"John," Rodney said.

"Fuck you," John said.

"Do you want to?" Rodney taunted him.

John got up from the couch, taking deep breaths as he walked across the room and back, trying to compose himself. When he had some semblance of control, he turned to Rodney. "Stop it," he said calmly. "I don't need to be prepared for _this_."

"You need to be prepared for _everything_ ," Rodney disagreed.

"For guys randomly offering to suck my cock on national TV?" John asked incredulous.

"You can bet it _would_ make national TV if _this_ is how you'd react!" Rodney said, getting up from the couch as well.

"Dammit, Rodney. Do you honestly think it would be the same out there, in front of cameras, surrounded by people, _when it's not you_!"

Rodney blinked in surprise. Then he dropped his gaze, looking puzzled for a moment, before turning to John again.

John couldn't believe what he'd let slip just now. He should probably just leave. He was well enough prepared for the next debate. And he'd rather talk about the death of his brother, mother, and wife, before having _this_ conversation with Rodney. "It's getting late," John said, grabbing his jacket.

"John," Rodney said.

"I'll go over our list again. Goodnight," John said, putting the jacket on.

"John," Rodney said again, but John ignored him and walked out of the door, trying to remember why he was doing all of this.

~~

That night John had a quick meeting with Karen to confirm the schedule for the next day and other co-ordinating decisions and then went to his room to go over the issues that would be most relevant the next day.

It would be an important day. It could turn out to be the decisive day of his candidacy.

When Rodney had come on-board as his communications director, he'd taken the good basis that they'd had and polished it up into perfection. He'd introduced their team to data upon data about which words caused which responses in which voters. And then he'd begun working on John.

"You need a speech. You need _the_ speech. The one that will make people sit up and listen. We're not going to win this from behind. We want people to support you because anything else would be a compromise."

Which were bold words, considering that up to that point, John had been considered the compromise candidate with more appeal to independent voters.

"People will vote for you not because you are a _rational_ choice, but because you are the _best_ choice," Rodney had said.

And then they'd made it happen. The press reacted favorably to the speech, asserting that John had finally found a way to connect with the people. One anchor joked that whatever he'd taken that day, he should keep taking it.

The speech was only the beginning, though.

Rodney made him practice talking about any topic. He filled spreadsheets with data, developing lists of words that John should use, not just because the audience reacted well to them, but because _John_ spoke more passionately when using them. Then there were lists of words that he _shouldn't_ use because they made him "boring or squirming" as Rodney put it.

He even had a list of "questions reporters come up with when they're high". At this point, John didn't even have to think if someone asked him which vegetable he'd like to be and why.

And it all had helped him garner support, strengthen the support that he'd already had, and to change the narrative from "John Sheppard, the moderate underdog" to a head-to-head race between him and Mitchell.

The next primary wasn't so important because of the number of delegates, but because it was a state that should by all conventional wisdom be Mitchell's by quite a margin. But John was leading in the polls. Not by much, but he knew that if he could win this one, people could no longer say that nominating him would worsen the enthusiasm gap because his support with the liberal base of his party was more tenuous.

He didn't see Rodney that morning, which wasn't unusual, because between his service in the Air Force and having kids, John was used to getting up very early, but even during the last campaign stops that day John didn't see much of him.

Which was fine by him. He didn't really know how to face Rodney. He hoped to god that Rodney wouldn't insist on talking about this. Not that there was anything to talk about. John would deal with his growing feelings for Rodney as he had since he met him—by trying hard to ignore they existed. And he hoped sincerely that Rodney wouldn't suddenly feel awkward around him.

Thankfully, the day was so busy that John didn't have the time to wallow in self-pity over having accidentally admitted his feelings to his straight communications director.

The debate went very well. John was good at talking, even if it wasn't necessarily something he _liked_ to do. After the death of his brother and mother, John had been the one who'd welcomed guests into their home, who'd supported his father in formal and informal gatherings. He'd felt incredibly uncomfortable at first. Not just because he wasn't sure he could take on that much responsibility as a grieving teen, but because it didn't _feel_ like him. But over the years, it had become second nature, and in some ways he was grateful that he'd been forced to learn to communicate with people on such a level. He wouldn't be where he was without it.

It was towards the end of the debate that the moderator asked him, "Your brother died when you were nine. Would you tell us about how this affected you?"

For a moment, John wondered if Rodney could tell the future or something. He was about to tell the moderator that he'd rather not talk about it, when he recalled Rodney's words that he could only do this so often and that he didn't want to seem like he was hiding something. Despite all the improvements in being more passionate, John still had a label of being somewhat reserved. This could be his chance to change that.

Not that he'd say much. Just a few words would be enough. "It was difficult," he began, trying to gather his thoughts. "Our family was never quite the same, and I...I missed him. I _still_ miss him sometimes. I wish he could be here right now. I wish he'd have had a chance to meet his nephew and niece, that they'd have had a chance to meet their uncle." He wasn't going to mention his mother. She'd quickly gone on his own personal don't mention list as soon as Rodney had started drilling those rules into him. "I think...I think it taught me how important _family_ is. And it taught me to keep going when it seems impossible."

He was lost in memories for a moment before he snapped out of it and looked at the moderator. "Thank you," the moderator said.

John had no idea how he'd done. He wasn't sure if he'd seemed weak or pitiful. But he knew that at the very least it should have given him points for opening up about himself. He quickly glanced over to Mitchell who looked not too happy. Hmm. John at least didn't have seemed to hurt his campaign with his response.

The next question was asked, and the debate continued. At the very end John got into something of an argument with Mitchell. He knew that inner fighting in their party wasn't good, but he also knew that he needed to make clear what the difference between him and Mitchell was.

"It's not going to happen!" John eventually said with a firm voice. "And you _know_ that."

Mitchell glared at him, struggling with an answer, but it didn't come. When John realized that _this_ was going to be the moment that would play on TV over and over again tonight, he felt almost sorry for Mitchell.

When they went backstage, his campaign manager rushed to him. "You're up _seven_ points on Intrade," she told him gleefully.

"The question about my brother," John said. "You don't think it—"

"Your answer was _perfect_ ," she assured him, then pulled him into a hug.

"As if you'd been prepared for it," Rodney mused behind her. Karen let John go, and Rodney stepped up to him. "You did a great job tonight." He was much more subdued than John's performance warranted.

"Tomorrow is going to be the day," Karen said. "I can feel it."

"Let's have a snack and see how the media spins it," John said. 

Even as he followed Karen, he could feel Rodney's eyes on him.

~~

As John had known moments after the exchange, Mitchell's inability to refute that he knew that his ambitious reform would never get passed in congress was _the_ talking point of the debate. Every network showed the moment in their summaries. And the news networks that had to fill more time also mentioned John talking about his brother, calling it an emotional moment.

Karen had all but brought out the champagne, though John pointed out that the next day wouldn't be the last primary and that he wasn't the nominee yet. It didn't dampen her high spirits, but he needed to say it to keep his campaign grounded. Complacency could be the death of even the best-run campaign, and he wasn't going to lose this just because he'd been too sure of himself.

Rodney was uncharacteristically subdued when usually anytime John performed well in a speech or debate he was smug. He also agreed with John that they couldn't afford to stop fighting.

"Mitchell isn't just going to give up," he pointed out. "Even if he'll tank tomorrow—and after tonight, there's no way he'll catch up to John—there are plenty of states that still have to vote, including New York and California, where none of our internal polling has ever shown John ahead."

Karen looked at him, still grinning. "Do you want to know what Nate Silver tweeted after the debate?" she asked.

"No," Rodney said, rolling his eyes. "I'll go work on the data for the next states. If you need me, you know where to find me," he added, looking at John for a moment.

John only said, "I should call Julie and Dave."

After talking to his kids, John worked out a bit. Life on the campaign trail was pretty hectic, and he didn't have the opportunity to do as much sports as he wanted to, so he took every chance he got, and after tonight's debate, he figured he deserved some time for himself.

His thoughts returned to Rodney. There'd been a weird tension between them all day. Or maybe tension wasn't the right word. _Awareness._ He had no idea what would happen when they got into a room together alone, and John knew that Rodney would want to go over the issues for the next campaign stops after the primary tomorrow.

John didn't want to talk about this, but pragmatist that he was, he knew that he couldn't afford that their attention would stray even a little from the task at hand. So after taking a shower, he decided to clear the air between them. It would be embarrassing, but better to get that embarrassment out once and for all than let it linger.

When Rodney let him in, the silence threatened to get heavy between them, so John took a deep breath and began talking.

"This should...I hope... _Damn_ ," John said, sighing.

"Very eloquent," Rodney commented with a smile.

"I haven't been prepared for this topic," John mused.

Rodney looked at him for a moment. "Well, let me know what you want to say, and I'll tell you how to say it. It's what I'm here for."

"I'm sorry," John said.

"For what?" Rodney asked.

"For not having myself better under control. I shouldn't...I shouldn't have feelings like this, and at the very least, I should have known better than to reveal those feelings."

"By 'feelings like this' you mean gay feelings?" Rodney asked, frowning.

At one point, Rodney had asked him if John thought of himself as sick for being gay, if he thought it was 'unnatural'. John had told him that he wasn't homophobic. Neither in public nor in private. He was okay with being gay while acknowledging that at this point in time it couldn't be a part of his public image. He suspected that Rodney was worried about internalized homophobia again now. So he clarified, "I mean gay feelings for my straight communications director while running for president."

Rodney looked thoughtful for a long moment before turning away. John wasn't sure what to make of that. Then Rodney took a deep breath and shook his head.

"It's not going to be a problem," John said, walking around Rodney to be able to see his face. "It wasn't before, and it isn't now. That slip of the tongue last night...it's not going to happen in public. And I will...I hope that I don't have to say this, but I will anyway. I'll obviously never approach you in an inappropriate way. I promise."

"You promise?" Rodney asked. "Like you promised you wouldn't fall in love when I joined the campaign?" It sounded reproachful, but then Rodney caught himself, adding awkwardly, "Not that you said you were in love with me."

John had nothing to say to that. He was trying very much not to think about his feelings for Rodney. Though he knew that he'd never felt like this about anyone before.

"Okay," Rodney said, looking determined. "You're right. This doesn't change anything."

John smiled in relief.

"Want to go over the Super Tuesday states?" Rodney asked. "I know your mind is on tomorrow, but I have a few ideas to keep the momentum going after Mitchell's debacle tonight."

"Sure," John said.

~~

Thankfully things went back to normal after that. Well, not completely. Rodney had laid off the ambiguous jokes to get a rise out of John, a fact which John was grateful for. But other than that they'd spent their time together preparing for Super Tuesday and keeping up the narrative that after Mitchell's loss after his gaffe in the debate, John was shaping up to be the clear favorite.

Things looked good, approaching Super Tuesday. Mitchell had managed to regain some lost ground with a fervent speech, telling people in essence that the time for compromise would come, but that if you already went into negotiations with a compromise, every ground you ceded after that would be to the other side.

John's response was that he didn't intend to cede any ground. He'd happily point to Mitchell's plans if the Republicans got the idea that even more compromise was necessary.

The polls were mostly in John's favor, but it was by a close enough margin that John remained cautious and kept working hard, making campaign stop after campaign stop, until he had a hard time keeping track of where he was when he woke up.

By Super Tuesday, Mitchell's campaign had shown signs of regaining enough of its lost support to make the outcome of the primaries and caucuses wide open.

Even after the first primaries had ended, there wasn't an announcement of a winner in sight. John felt as if it was a conspiracy to keep the viewers glued to their TV sets.

Eventually he couldn't take the suspense anymore. "Rodney, why don't we go over your data for the next primaries?"

"What, now?!" Rodney asked.

"Yes, now. There's nothing we can do at this point, and I'm just going to drive myself crazy, waiting for a result," John told him. To Karen he said, "Don't call me for every win or loss or county result. The big picture is what matters."

"I don't know how you can be so calm," Karen said.

"I'm not, I just know how to hide it," John said. "Rodney."

Rodney nodded, and they went into John's room. Rodney started going over some of the topics that had priority in the various states, but John had a hard time not trying to calculate the possible outcome of the votes that had been cast today.

"Are you even listening?" Rodney suddenly asked.

"Yes, sure," John said automatically.

Rodney gave him a look.

"Okay, no, I'm not. I just can't sit there and wait to hear the result for every single delegate that's announced and then think about what it means," John admitted. "I wish Julie and Dave were here."

"We could still try to fly them out here," Rodney suggested.

John shook his head. "They have to go to school tomorrow." He'd made it clear to them that their education wasn't going to suffer from his campaign. Even though they wished they could join John on more campaign stops, John didn't allow it to interfere with school.

"We could watch some old Batman episodes," Rodney said.

It was John's turn to give him a look.

"What? You're in no state to think clearly, so if we're going to waste time, it might as well be on something fun."

John couldn't quite believe it, but he agreed, and so they ended up watching Adam West beat gaudy villains on Super Tuesday.

John's mind wasn't completely distracted of course. Neither by the show, nor by sitting on the couch next to Rodney. After two hours, he said, "I wonder why Karen hasn't interrupted us. I honestly expected her half into the first episode."

Rodney snorted. "You told her to wait. California has only just stopped voting. It's unlikely that all results are in by now."

John only bit his lips.

"You wanna check?" Rodney asked him with a fond smile.

"Maybe a tiny peek," John said.

Rodney laughed and switched the TV to a news channel. John's heart was beating furiously in his chest. More than likely the results would be so split that neither he nor Mitchell came out as a clear favorite. But maybe, just maybe...

They jumped into a discussion of the panel, and though numbers were scrolling at the bottom, it wasn't immediately clear how many results had been returned at this point. Then suddenly, the screen switched to an animated delegate graphic.

"Jesus," John said.

"Wow," Rodney said next to him.

It wasn't a complete blow-out, but god, considering how close the polls had been in the last days... He'd gotten sixty percent of the vote in New York. Even more in New Jersey. Mitchell had won a few states too, but by a smaller margin, and they were states with a smaller delegate count.

John turned to Rodney, his hands shaking. "Pinch me."

Rodney did without hesitating.

"Ouch," John complained. Then he started laughing. "We'll win," he said.

"I told you we would," Rodney said, grinning widely.

"God, I..." John pulled Rodney into a hug. Up until this moment, getting the nomination and becoming president had been a dream that John was willing to work hard for to make it become reality. But it wasn't until this moment that he truly believed it was going to happen.

"You're going to be president of the United States," Rodney whispered into his ear.

John squeezed him more tightly and then pulled back, finding himself face to face with Rodney, so close that they were almost touching. He knew that he should pull further back. He was so happy that he could kiss Rodney, but he wouldn't because he'd promised Rodney that he would never lose control and do something that Rodney didn't want.

But looking into Rodney's eyes right now, they told a different story.

Rodney dropped his gaze.

"Rodney," John whispered.

Rodney looked back at him, pain in his eyes, but also something else—love. John had to give Rodney credit for being much better at controlling his feelings than he let on. It was a big joke in their campaign team that Rodney was the only communications director who under no circumstances was allowed to communicate with the public because he always said what came to his mind without a filter.

But now John realized that he'd been able to hide something that John hadn't even considered. "Rodney," he whispered again.

Rodney began to turn his face away, but John was having none of that. He cupped Rodney's face, turned it back and kissed him.

If there was any doubt left that Rodney returned his feelings, it vanished when Rodney gave in after a brief moment of resistance and kissed him back. It was undescribable. John vaguely recalled that something important had happened today, but his mind was consumed with Rodney and the realization that this was what it felt like to be in love and be loved.

His whole body was vibrating with happiness and affection and lust and a thousand other emotions, that had built over the last months.

Abruptly, Rodney pushed him away. "We can't."

John didn't even try to parse what he meant. He didn't want to stop. He'd waited his whole life for this without knowing. He leaned forward again, but Rodney kept his hand on his chest, and then got up from the couch, putting some space between them. He was panting. He looked flushed, his thin lips looked redder than usual, and his hair was in disarray, where John's hand had run through it.

He looked beautiful.

"Rodney," John began again, getting up from the couch, but Rodney moved away from him, shaking his head.

"We can't do this. Certainly not now," he said, gesturing at the screen, where another state was called for John.

Slowly it dawned on John what he was talking about. Reality came crashing back on him when he realized that all that he'd worked for in the last year and possibly since the moment he'd entered politics, the vision of his future and that of his country, had no place for their love.

"I'll tell Karen you're watching," Rodney said, ready to leave, when John called out his name. Rodney turned back to him, looking cautious.

"Your hair is..." John said.

Rodney checked it, stroking it back down. "Thanks," he said. He went to leave the room, but turned back once more when he was at the door. He looked at John, the sadness written plainly on his face. Without another word he left.

It was then, that it occurred to John that Rodney had kept this a secret even after John had revealed his feelings. He hadn't corrected John in his assumption that Rodney was straight. He'd done everything to keep John from getting to this point.

And John could understand why. Since the death of his wife, having no relationship had been an easy sacrifice to make because he hadn't known what it felt like. But after tonight...

He recalled his own words that this wasn't going to be a problem. He wasn't so sure of that now.


	3. Priorities

John insisted that the speech he gave that Super Tuesday wouldn't be a victory speech.

Throughout the whole primary season up to that point, Mitchell had always lead in delegate count. That had changed radically now. John was ahead by a comfortable margin, but he didn't have enough that Mitchell couldn't catch up. Sure, John would have to not just lose the remaining primaries but lose them by quite a margin, but in today's world, where the media narrative had such a strong influence, one mistake—and John wasn't arrogant enough to believe he was above making mistakes—could cause big shifts in support and voter turn-out.

Instead, he thanked his supporters for believing in him and his vision.

He also thanked Rodney specifically for the first time. "I want to thank my kids for their support. Dave and Julie agreed to go on this journey with me, and knowing that they're always behind me and proud of what we're doing, makes it easier to fight another day. And I'll keep fighting, for them and for _you_."

The audience cheered wildly. John smiled. He could understand them. He was still on a high about finally _feeling_ that he could be president. And then there was Rodney. He was still on a high from that too. He knew that realistically there was no future for them. At least now. But his heart was only feeling the overwhelming joy of finally knowing what love was really like. Romantic love. Sexual attraction. Although he shouldn't think about that right now. But the revelation that Rodney returned his feelings were inextricably tied to this night for John. He didn't think he could ever think about one without remembering the other. When the cheers ebbed down a bit, John went on.

"This is an unforgettable night for me. And I owe it to all of you and so many people." He looked over to his team, where Rodney stood among the others. He looked slightly alarmed, because he always kept an eye on what John said and if he strayed off message, and this had not been planned. "Thank you, Rodney," John said, because he had to. He couldn't stand here tonight and thank strangers—even if they deserved it for working so hard for him—and _not_ thank Rodney. But he also knew that he couldn't just thank Rodney. People would ask why and— "And Karen, my campaign manager and good friend, and my whole team. Everyone who gave up their life for almost a year to do this with me." John realized that this was starting to sound like a victory speech after all. "The fight isn't over. I'll keep fighting for the support of _everyone_ , Democrat, Independent, Republican. I'll keep fighting, and I know you will too. Together we can win this. Together we can make this a better world for our children and grand-children. Let us _do_ it!"

The crowd went wild, and John waved, and stepped towards his team. Backstage, Rodney commented, "You know, considering that you didn't want this to sound like you'd already defeated Mitchell, you talked a lot about what _felt_ like the general election."

John looked at Rodney. He should _know_ that John hadn't planned that. He should know that John still wasn't thinking completely clearly and _why_. Even right now, John could remember what Rodney's lips felt like on his. He wanted to feel that again when he looked at Rodney.

"Okay, it's getting late," Rodney said, averting his gaze. "Tomorrow we'll fly to...can't even remember which state exactly."

"Washington," Karen threw in.

"Right, Washington first, then Louisiana," Rodney said.

"Off to bed, then," John said, smirking at Rodney.

Rodney's eyes widened a bit, and he flushed. "Night," he said curtly and turned around.

"What is up with him tonight?" Karen asked, shaking her head. "I thought after tonight you wouldn't be able to be in a room with him because his ego would be so inflated."

John snorted. "I think it's hard for all of us to grasp the significance of what happened tonight," he said, looking after Rodney as he disappeared down the hall.

"I know _exactly_ what happened tonight," Karen disagreed. "Tonight our hard work finally paid off. Tonight, there's no longer any doubt who'll be the Democratic candidate and dare I say who'll be the next president." John gave her a look. "I know, I know," she continued. "You keep telling us that we need to keep fighting. And I'll plan ahead for the next war."

"All right," John said.

They made their way back to their hotel rooms. Half a year from now he might go to bed in the White House. It was still hard to grasp how much closer he'd gotten to that possible future tonight.

It was even harder to grasp that not so long ago moving into the White House with his children seemed like all he wanted. Now he couldn't help wondering about intelligent blue eyes and a crooked mouth and what place they'd have in that life.

~~

The next day, John still felt the buzz of his victories—and of the kiss with Rodney. When they waited to board their plane, John wanted to reach out and stroke his arm for no real reason. When Rodney looked at him, John had to smile. Rodney answered with a frown, and it was clear that he was worried, but John wasn't sure what else he could do.

He hadn't sought Rodney out last night. He hadn't tried to kiss him again, even though he really wanted that. John tried very hard to ensure that his behavior wasn't different than before their kiss, but his _feelings_ were something that he couldn't completely control. He was human after all.

John gave his speech in Aberdeen, trying to connect with the people, many of whom were probably supporters of Mitchell, trying to see if they could get behind John, and John tried to convince them that he would be the president they wanted. Some questions were critical, but John always answered them honestly and respectfully explained why he took a different approach.

In the middle of the town hall, a young man stood up. "You say that you're looking forward to a future where marriage equality is a reality, but you're not going to do anything about it. How can that be your position? Doing nothing against inequality is the same as supporting it."

John waited for a moment, looking at the guy, who seemed to have been struggling to stay polite. Being pragmatic was sometimes hard, because he _got_ the ideals that people were striving for. Often he shared them. But it was especially hard in the case of gay rights. "I agree with you," John said. "Doing nothing against inequality is the same as supporting it. And I _will_ fight for equality. I want a future where people can marry the person they love no matter what gender that person happens to be. I want a future where people can't be thrown out of their homes because they're gay or transgender and where they can't be fired because they're gay or transgender. What I want is a future where a kid can grow up, knowing that their sexual orientation and identity won't keep them from being treated exactly the same as their peers."

People applauded at that, but John continued, because he knew that he owed the young man an answer.

"Of the many things that still need to be done, my first focus will be ENDA, because we _have_ the votes for it. The majority of Americans agree that you shouldn't be allowed to fire someone just because they're gay. The ability to provide for your family is essential, and I believe it's absolutely necessary that we do not leave the decision to the states. I'm a strong supporter of states rights, but we cannot allow _any_ state to discriminate, and that's why ENDA is my _first_ priority."

"I respect your pragmatism," the young man sad, "but I disagree. It think ENDA is important, definitely, but I also think we cannot wait to 'have the votes' before we start fighting for our rights. Civil rights are not won by _waiting_!"

John nodded. "Yes," he said. "You need to fight. _We_ need to fight. And I will. ENDA is my _first_ priority, but not my last. I won't stop fighting. And waiting for the votes doesn't mean that we do _nothing_. There's still work that needs to be done to win people over. I know that we shouldn't have to. I know that we shouldn't have to _convince_ people to give us equal rights, but for now that's the way it is. Reality can be harsh, but we're changing it every day with every conversation that we have. I _will_ have those conversations. You will have a staunch supporter in the White House in me. I know that it's hard. I don't know if you have a partner," the young man nodded, "and you might think about marrying him. And you should be able to. You should be able to ask him, and make plans, and celebrate the occasion with your friends and family. I want that for you. I want that more than you could know. And it _will_ happen. Maybe not tomorrow, but _soon_ , and I'll fight for you. For you and your partner and your family and all the other families like that out there."

"Thank you," the young man said.

John wasn't entirely sure if he'd convinced him. But it did occur to him that he'd gone a bit off message here. He dared a careful glance towards his team. Karen smiled at him, giving a thumbs up, but Rodney looked aghast.

John turned back to the crowd. He couldn't change what he'd just said. He wasn't sure if someone had been taping him. Either way he needed to continue the town hall, so he took the next question. Everything else would have to come later.

~~

"What the hell was that?" Rodney asked, as soon as they were alone. Karen had been confused about what they needed to discuss right now, since they had to get the next town hall, but Rodney insisted to talk to John for a minute.

"I think you're making it worse than it is," John said. "I don't think anyone in the room even noticed anything."

" _I_ noticed," Rodney said.

"But you _know_ ," John countered.

"Well, what about this?" Rodney waved his smart phone in John's face. It was a tweet by some right-wing nut wondering what John had meant by "to give _us_ equal rights".

"Look, those are lunatics. Like the people that suggested I had my wife killed. Nobody is going to listen to them," John said.

"Oh, no, that's where you're wrong. They might not believe them, but they will listen. It will be at the back of their minds and if they see something or hear something, they will remember it. And you gave them more than that just a few seconds later. You 'want it more than you could know'?" Rodney said.

John dropped his gaze. "I've never hidden my support for gay rights," John said weakly.

"And that's great. But it never sounded like that, John, and you _know_ that," Rodney said, more disappointed now than angry.

John didn't say anything because he did know that.

"I don't have to tell you how dangerous this is," Rodney told him.

"It will be fine," John said, though he didn't sound completely convinced. Everything had been easier before the kiss.

"Yes, so you've said from the beginning. You also said there would be no chance that a relationship—past, present, or future—would interfere with your campaign. Would you still say that?" Rodney asked.

"There is no such relationship, is there?" John said. Rodney had made that pretty clear. "Certainly not during the campaign," John added.

Rodney's eyes widened. "I don't want you even _thinking_ about that. Do you... We're not just doing this to win an election. We want to give you the chance to change the country in the next four years. And then we want you to get re-elected so that you can continue doing it for four more."

Right. Rodney was right. Except that what Rodney was saying was that he should basically lie for nearly all of the next decade. And that didn't sit right with John at all.

"John?" Rodney asked, a warning note in his voice.

"I did not plan for this, okay?" John said defensively.

"Well, I didn't either, because you told me I didn't have to," Rodney said.

"I hate lying," John said.

"You're not lying. You're just not volunteering the truth. There is a difference," Rodney said.

John didn't say anything. Something in him still rebelled against what Rodney was telling him. He didn't even know why. It wasn't as if he never tried to avoid an issue if he knew his answer on the topic would be unpopular. But the thing was, if he was asked directly, he always told the truth. And he knew that in this case, Rodney would tell him he couldn't. "But if they did ask, you'd want me to lie."

"Want? Want?! This has nothing to do with what I want. Believe me, what _I_ want is..." Rodney took a deep breath. "What I want first and foremost is to see you become president of the United States. And that means that if someone—God forbid—asks you if you are gay, your answer can only be, 'No, I'm not,' without the slightest hint of hesitation."

John wished he could ask what Rodney wanted beyond seeing John become president. He wished he could ask what would have happened between them if they were just two normal people, a political consultant and a businessman. He wished he could ask about the future, if there was even the possibility of a future. But he knew what Rodney's answers would be. That he shouldn't even think about it.

"John, you can't tell me you want this," Rodney gestured between them, "more than being president."

John had never put it like this in his head. He'd never seen it as an either or. He'd wanted to be president for some time now. Meeting Rodney and falling in love with him had nothing to do with that. At least it shouldn't. John realized that _that_ was what bothered him so much about this discussion—and the whole situation. "I shouldn't have to choose," he said.

"No, you shouldn't," Rodney conceded. "But sometimes you have to make tough choices. _You_ told me that. You told me that you were willing to make sacrifices."

John _had_ said that, and he _was_ willing to make sacrifices. But so far he'd made his choices, knowing exactly what he got into. This was different. He hadn't planned this. And times had changed since he'd first realized he was more interested in boys than in girls. There'd been no state in the country that had recognized same-sex relationships in any form when he had married. Leading the life he'd wanted to lead, as a respected member of the community with a spouse and children, serving first his country in the military and then his community either in public office or in the family company, had been unthinkable with a man at his side.

Now, though, openly gay elected officials were a reality. And there was a remarkable difference between not having a relationship with a man in general and not having a relationship with _Rodney_. Especially if the only thing keeping them apart was the nebulous "reality" that he could not be elected president if he came out as gay. Not too long ago, some people would have said the same of being elected to the Senate, but in the last midterm elections it had happened. In most cases prejudice came from fear of the unknown. But people _did_ know him. And they liked him. Why would that stop just because he happened to love another man? It changed nothing about what he intended to do as president.

"John, please tell me that you're not even thinking about... I can't even put it into words," Rodney said, sounding absolutely miserable. "You don't seriously want to come out as gay now? It would be the end of your nomination dreams."

John averted his gaze for a moment and then said defiantly, "You don't know that."

"No, I _do_ know that," Rodney said. "The only way you could lose more votes would be to come out as atheist."

"But whose votes would that be? Probably not people who'd vote for me anyway," John countered.

Rodney threw his hands up in horror. "I can't believe we're having this discussion. _Thirty-two._ That's the percentage of people who would not vote for you even if they otherwise find you fully qualified for the job. And no, this doesn't mean it's only the very conservative, and more than that it doesn't mean that it won't influence the sixty-seven percent who could possibly see themselves voting for a gay person. Do you have _any_ idea what would happen if you came out as gay? And I'm not just talking about some wingnuts who'll start wondering if you'd also like to fuck dogs and children. No, even apparently sane people will ask about your marriage, about the Air Force, about lying to the public—and don't believe for a second that our opponents will call it anything other than that—"

"Mitchell wouldn't—" John began.

"I'm not talking about Mitchell!" Rodney interrupted him. "I know that Cowen is so unpopular compared to you and Mitchell that many see the race for the Democratic nomination as the real race, but that doesn't mean the Republicans don't exist any longer. They will jump on this like rats on a lifeboat. Their ship is sinking, and you're throwing them a huge lifeline. Not that I'd think you could still win the nomination if you come out now."

Part of John knew that Rodney had a point, but at the same time he didn't want to give in so easily. "I'd have to lose every primary that—"

"And you will!" Rodney shouted at him. "For God's sake, John. We don't have time to get people used to you being gay. The next primaries are in three days. If you do this, the _only_ thing people will talk about is that you're gay and what that means to this race. Forget everything that we worked so hard to establish about you as a candidate. It will no longer be about that, about what you'll do as president, it will only be about who you want to sleep with."

"Isn't that where you usually come in and work your magic?" John asked with a small smile.

Rodney looked at him for a long time. He didn't smile back. "Okay, let's try it a different way," Rodney eventually said. "Do you really want to go out there now and tell Karen and everyone else who has worked their ass of for you that you'll do something that you _know_ will jeopardize—let's for the sake of argument not even say end—your campaign?"

John considered that. He knew that he wouldn't be here today without the people who had donated their time and money. Karen had pretty much abandoned her husband for the last months, though he was a good sport about it. And then there were those donors that had invested larger sums into this battle because they'd believed in John. They wouldn't be happy, John knew. In fact, he was sure that a few doors would close for him, possibly forever, not because he was gay, but because he wasn't reliable.

But when he thought of the people and not the large checks, when he thought of his staff, of Karen, who loved him like a son, he couldn't imagine them not understanding. Would they be disappointed? Yes. But they'd also be happy for him. Over the years, Karen had tried to find a new wife for him, not realizing how futile her efforts were.

And then there were his kids. They hadn't asked for the spotlight that John's candidacy brought with it. They probably wouldn't mind if he didn't win the nomination, even though they fully supported him. But beyond that John realized that if he started lying now, it wouldn't just be to the world at large, but also his kids. Or he could tell them the truth and ask them to keep it a secret, but that...was wrong on so many levels that he couldn't imagine it for a second.

When he eventually came out—and he didn't intend to take this to his grave, even if he agreed with Rodney and didn't come out now—his kids would have questions about his past, about his relationship with their mother. John wasn't sure if he would be able to answer them. Sarah and he had been connected through the same vision of the future, a home, a family. They'd understood and respected each other. They'd loved each other, even if not quite how husband and wife usually loved each other.

He'd never asked her if she was a lesbian. They'd soon understood that their relationship wasn't based on passion or even physical attraction. That wasn't what they'd wanted from each other. They'd never felt the need to discuss it. At least he hadn't. After Sarah's deadly accident he'd lost any chance to ask her.

"John?" Rodney interrupted his thoughts.

"You're asking me to lie to my children or tell them it's okay to do so," John said.

Rodney looked at him for a long moment. "John," he eventually said quietly. "You _do_ know that I'm hanging by a thread here?"

"Rodney," John said, stepping closer.

"I'm doing my best to convince you to reject me for the next eight and a half years. Do you have any idea what this does to me?" Rodney continued.

"It doesn't have to be this way," John said, putting his hands on Rodney's arms.

Rodney was so small and fragile suddenly. He looked at John, eyes shining suspiciously as he averted them. "You'll regret this for the rest of your life," Rodney whispered, voice breaking.

John pulled him into his arms. He couldn't bear Rodney talking like that. Rodney had no right to be so vulnerable. If Karen was the heart of the campaign, Rodney had been the guiding light on a rock, never wavering as it lit their path to victory.

"I can't fight us both," Rodney whispered.

"I think you did a pretty good job at it," John whispered back.

"Not good enough," Rodney said.

"Let's wait and see. We have another campaign stop to make, and tomorrow I'll talk to Julie and Dave," John said.

Rodney pulled back to look at him. "Don't give me false hope."

"What exactly are you hoping?" John asked.

Rodney opened his mouth but stopped. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head.

John smiled. He leaned forward to kiss Rodney, and Rodney pulled back for a second, but then leaned forward to meet him halfway.

~~

Nobody asked him about gay rights on the next campaign stop.

That evening in the hotel, John went to Rodney's room, knowing he'd have a status report on how the media had reacted to John's earlier town hall, if they had reacted at all. John had to smile, watching Rodney on the couch, with several laptops around him. He took one of the laptops next to Rodney, set it on the coffee table, and sat down next to Rodney.

"So?" John asked.

Rodney turned to him. "It looks good so far. The mainstream media is ignoring the topic. They probably realize how ridiculous it would be to question someone simply because they identify with being for equal rights," he said. "Oh, who am I kidding. That blurry little video of your answer was just not good enough to broadcast."

John snorted. He put a hand on Rodney's knee.

Rodney twitched. "Sorry," he said. "It's just... You were right. This won't be an issue. If you manage not to give them any new material to speculate, nobody will pay attention to it." He didn't sound particularly happy about it.

John was aware that this could and should be the end of the fight they were having that afternoon. Except that in the last few hours John had realized that this went beyond how to react to a little blunder in a Q and A if you wanted to call it that. This was about the principles that he had. Honesty and integrity were labels that were hard to come by as a politician these days, and he'd earned them.

Over the course of the day, John had thought about Rodney's arguments. He'd rejected some, but looking at the polling numbers, he had to admit that it was naive to believe that he wouldn't take massive hits in his numbers. And while he'd earned a lot of his support by virtue of convincing people that he was the better candidate, he also knew that some of it came from the Democrats' willingness to unite behind _one_ candidate as quickly as possible. If these people no longer thought he was that candidate, they'd be gone in an instant and it would have nothing to do with how they personally felt about a gay president.

As someone who based his campaign on pragmatism, John needed to be honest to himself and admit that he wasn't far enough ahead of Mitchell in the polls that he could afford to lose a good chunk of his support. It _would_ be the end of his nomination in all likelihood.

So he'd have to keep this a secret. He wanted that to be a statement, but in his head it always turned into a question. And if he tried to answer that question, he stumbled over matters that weren't as black and white.

If he _did_ keep this a secret, and if he did go on to win the election, which was likely, what then? He'd be president, and hopefully a good president. But after his eight years in office, he'd want to finally come out. He had no idea if a relationship between him and Rodney would be possible then. Eight years was a long time, and despite Rodney's sometimes aggravating personality, John could imagine someone else falling in love with him, a woman or a man, who _didn't_ have to hide it. But even if Rodney was with someone else then, John would want to be able to finally be truthful to his children, his friends, and the world. He thought about gay teens, who were vilified at school, at church, and sometimes in their own homes. What would it mean to them to know that a president was also gay?

And that was what made John angry at himself. Because what would he _really_ say to those kids if he came out after leaving his office? Wouldn't the message be, "Yes, you too can be president of the United States—as long as you hide it"? What would his legacy be? Would it be that he'd been a good president who'd made necessary sacrifices, or would he be a coward, who'd supported the status quo of inequality by sacrificing his own principles in the name of doing good?

Conversely, if he came out now, he could be the man who would have been president who also happened to be gay. John wasn't sure if the message that you couldn't be president if you were gay was a better one to send to kids, but it could start a conversation. Rodney was right that they didn't have the time to properly get the voters used to this for the rest of the primaries. But for at least the next few months, with every primary that he lost, people would have to discuss and admit that the only reason they stopped voting for him was because he was gay. They'd have to ask themselves why. And if _they_ didn't, _he_ could. If Rodney was right—and he tended to be—and the only thing they still talked about was whom John wanted to sleep with, that he would ask each of them right back, "Why does it matter whom I want to sleep with? My principles are the same as yesterday. Why isn't your support?"

John had never wanted to lead the fight for gay rights. He'd always had the bigger picture in mind, but right now, he felt himself between a rock and hard place, where the bigger picture meant betrayal to the equality that he'd always supported. And maybe he was lying to himself. Maybe he had always betrayed those ideals by joining the Air Force, by marrying Sarah, by staying in the closet after her death. Maybe he needed the personal experience to really understand what it meant to be denied the basic dignity of not discriminating against whom you love.

But the fact of the matter was, he finally knew what it was like. Here he was sitting next to Rodney, and instead of contemplating if they could make a relationship work, instead of contemplating how his kids would react or looking forward to having a future together, he had to think about if it was worth doing that if it meant he had to risk his vocation.

It shouldn't be that way, and the American public deserved to know this, to have this pushed on them in the media for the next months. John realized that there was no going back. His campaign had always been about telling the truth, even in the cases where the voters might not want to hear it. And this was one of those cases. He'd fight for his right to be treated equally, and he'd lose. But he hoped he'd change minds every step of the way, until people remembered what they'd loved about him and he stopped being the gay man who'd ruined his aspirations to become president, but he'd be the man who should have been president if it weren't for our prejudices.

He could run for the U.S. Senate maybe. And if eight years was a long time to sacrifice a big part of his personal life, it was also a long time make people reconsider. As Rodney had said, he was still young. He could still run eight years from now. And eight years from now, he might _really_ make a difference when he was _elected_ as the first openly gay president of the United States. That would be a legacy he could be proud of without hesitation. And even if the world wouldn't be ready by that time, John wasn't ready any longer _now_ to betray his principles.

"I'll talk to Julie and Dave tomorrow," John said calmly. "And I want us to schedule a press conference tomorrow."

Rodney looked dismayed.

"You asked me yesterday if I wanted this," John gestured between them, "more than being president. But the real question is do I want to be the last politician to come out of the closet after he left office or do I want to be the first openly gay president."

"You wouldn't be the last," Rodney said.

"You know what I mean. We can really make a difference here, Rodney," John said.

"But at what cost?" Rodney asked.

"At the cost of seeing Cameron Mitchell be president. He's not a bad guy. He'll learn to make compromises. I just hope that his supporters won't be too disappointed in him," John said. "This isn't the end of the world. There'll be other elections. You said yourself that we don't have time to change minds in the next few days and weeks. At least not enough. But we can try. And then we can keep working for the next eight years. Together," John added, taking Rodney's hands in his. "If you want."

"When I first heard about your candidacy, I thought, 'Who would run a campaign as a moderate against such an unpopular incumbent?'" Rodney said.

John chuckled. "You weren't the only one."

"But then I read your platform and some of your speeches, and I understood what you were doing. I had someone suggest my name to Karen, because I wanted to be a part of this. That was even before I realized what a...wonderful dork you are," Rodney smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

John leaned forward to kiss him, but Rodney moved away. "The door isn't looked is it?"

"They'll know tomorrow," John said.

"And even if they knew today, I wouldn't want them walking in on us..." Rodney gestured vaguely pornographic with his hand.

John flushed. He hadn't really intended to start something more than a kiss.

"I keep forgetting you're a virgin," Rodney said.

"Hey, my children were conceived naturally," John protested.

"But you've never had a guy go down on you. Someone who'd been fantasizing about the opportunity for months," Rodney said, his voice getting deeper.

John shifted on the couch. Hearing Rodney talk about sex—about sex with _him_ —made his pants tighten.

"Let's wait until tomorrow or maybe even after that," Rodney said good-naturedly. Then his expression turned resigned. "We'll have more time soon enough."

"No," John disagreed, thoughts about sex with Rodney forgotten for the moment. "I don't intend to cancel any of our campaign stops. We might not win, but we will not give them the satisfaction of giving up. They'll have to look me in the eye and tell me they won't vote for me just because I'm gay."

"Or they'll just not come," Rodney said.

"They _will_ come. They'll want to see how I do, what I say. And I think the gay groups might re-think their support of Mitchell. Though maybe not. My policies will be the same," John mused.

"No matter the policy, they will fight for your right to be treated based on your merits as a candidate, not your sexual orientation," Rodney said.

"So we might not have more time soon, but we'll find the time to..." John said, flushing.

"To?" Rodney asked with a grin.

"You want me to say it, right?" John said. Not waiting for an answer, he leaned forward and whispered into Rodney's ear, "To fuck." He could see a shudder run through Rodney's body, revelled in it.

"We should go to bed now. It'll be a long day tomorrow. Do you want to talk to Karen tonight?" Rodney asked.

John shook his head. "She's already sleeping. I'll talk to her tomorrow."

"Yes, let's sleep over this," Rodney agreed.

"I won't change my mind," John said.

"Even if you don't, it'll help to actually be awake tomorrow when you ruin your chances of becoming nominee," Rodney said.

"This time around," John added. "Goodnight, Rodney." He leaned forward for a quick kiss and got up.

"John?" Rodney asked.

John turned back to him.

"You're not just doing this for me, right?" Rodney asked.

"No," John said. "I'm doing this for myself, my children, and every gay person who's ever had their love questioned by others."

"Because this might not work," Rodney said. "You have no experience with gay relationships but I can tell you it's not going to be easy just because we...love each other."

"It doesn't need to be easy," John said. "It just needs to be possible. I'm willing to work as hard on our relationship as I worked for everything else in my life. Which is probably a good thing," he added with a smirk.

"Oh, haha, you're hilarious. You're not nearly as low maintenance as you think you are. Ask Karen. She's been telling me how hard it is to find someone for you," Rodney said.

"Really? She told you that?" John asked.

"Oh, yes. And I had to sit next to her and not only not tell her, 'You're doing it wrong!', but also not tell her that the last thing I'd want was for you to find someone else," Rodney said.

"I'm sorry," John said. 

"You can start making up for what I had to go through tomorrow," Rodney said.

"I will," John said, giving Rodney a smile before he went to his own room to get some sleep before the big day tomorrow.

~~

"If you thought that the Democratic race for the nomination was over, think again. Earlier today, the Sheppard campaign scheduled a press conference in Topeka, Kansas, leaving reporters wondering what they could have to announce. Speculation ran high. Would Sheppard announce Cameron Mitchell as his running mate, thus clinching the nomination which many already considered his? The answer is no. In a move that nobody expected, Governor John Sheppard announced at 4 pm this afternoon that he is gay."

John was slightly disturbed by how gleeful the anchor looked. "And why the time? What does it matter that it was 4 pm?" he asked.

Rodney sat down between John and Karen, munching on some chips. "People will want to remember the exact moment you voluntarily gave up the nomination," he said.

"Rodney!" Karen chided him. "It's not yet over."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Right. I'm sure, Mitchell has the burning desire to come out as an atheist tomorrow."

The TV screen switched to the footage of the press conference. John flipped channels. He'd seen those images more than enough today.

"What I don't understand is _why_?" one of the pundits said on TV. "Nobody suspected this. There was absolutely no reason for him to come out now."

"We'll see," another pundit said.

"You think there's more?"

"I think you're right. There was no rational reason for him to come out. At least none that he gave us. So what is more likely? That John Sheppard got up this morning and thought, 'Hey, let's tank my successful campaign a few steps before the finish line' or that there are other reasons?"

"I think he honestly just wanted to tell the truth," the woman on the panel said.

"Oh, come on. He knew that he was gay before he decided to run. Why the sudden need for honesty?" the second guy said.

"McKay," the woman said.

Karen turned to Rodney. "At least she got it right," she commented.

"You think McKay pressured him to come out? I don't think he has that kind—" the first guy began.

"No," the woman interrupted him. "Let's look at Sheppard's life. He went into the Air Force, knowing he was gay. He got married to have a family. After the death of his wife he raised his kids alone. Sheppard has always been pretty aloof, even at the beginning of the campaign, but then—boom-"

"The speech," the others finished with her.

"Exactly," she said. "The speech. But even before that we could see him changing. And the reason for that change was one man. I think what happened is plain and simply that he fell in love."

"You make it sound very romantic," the first guy said with a smile.

"It _is_ romantic, don't you think?" she asked.

"It's a lifetime movie," the second guy said derisively. "If they made those for gay men. Sheppard is an idiot. I'm sorry, but there's no other word for it."

"Robert," the first guy said.

"It's true!" Robert defended himself. "This guy had the presidency in his hand. Nobody would have stopped him. Not Mitchell, certainly not Cowen. People loved him. And he threw it all away because he suddenly could only think with his dick. Unless I'm right, and there's still some revelation to come."

"I don't think there's anything more than what he told us," the woman disagreed. "And it's not about sex. Why do some people always immediately think of sex when they talk about being gay? His whole campaign he ran on being the candidate who tells people like it is. And that's exactly what he did today."

"He still could have waited," the first guy said. "This is what I don't get. It's just half a year until November."

"And then what?" Robert asked. "You'd think they let a homosexual be president?"

"There is no law that says you have to be heterosexual to be president," the woman pointed out, glaring at Robert.

Rodney snorted. "I'm guessing there would be if it were up to good old Robert here."

John turned off the TV.

Rodney complained. "Hey! Maybe she would have smacked him in the face. He certainly had it coming."

John leaned forward to look past Rodney to Karen. "Are there any poll results yet?"

Karen shook her head. "People are just coming home from work. Most of them don't even know it yet. Give them two more hours. We're on it."

"I could tell you the results if you want to know. John Sheppard vs. Cameron Mitchell, 25% vs. 60% with 15% of what-the-ever-loving-fuck," Rodney said. He'd been in sarcasm mode ever since the announcement, where he'd stood next to John stock-still.

John put a hand on Rodney's arm and stroked up to his neck. "You wanna go over the issues for tomorrow's campaign stops?"

"You mean the ones not related to you being gay?" Rodney asked.

John sighed.

Rodney took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Maybe you should relax for the next hours," Karen suggested. "We won't have any results before eight. I'll keep compiling the reactions."

"Just sort them into romantic idiot, hiding something, afraid to win—" Rodney began but cut himself off.

"I'm proud of how well you're handling all of this," John said with a straight face, kneading Rodney's neck.

This actually made Rodney laugh. Karen grinned.

"Let me check on Dave and Julie and then we can sit together, maybe watch an episode of Batman," John suggested.

"Go check if they're doing their homework. In the meantime, I wanna see her make that homophobic asshole bleed," Rodney said.

"Watch him," John said to Karen.

Rodney rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything before switching the TV back on.

~~

John didn't check if his kids were doing their homework. He didn't have to. Dave and Julie were as responsible as you could hope at that age. Which wasn't to say that they didn't have their rebellious moments. Dave had made John promise to allow him to campaign with his father during the summer vacation. He was interested in politics and considered it a great injustice that he wasn't allowed to vote yet. And Julie had once flat-out refused to visit a cousin of John's father, because she was creepy.

But the disagreements John had with his kids weren't without reason. In some moments, they felt really grown-up to him, something which he attributed in part to their mother's death. It had been hard for all of them to deal with the loss, but they'd managed to built a support system for each other without her. John was there for them when they needed him, but in many ways they'd taken care of him as much as he'd taken care of them.

He knew that a bulk of the credit for that went to Sarah. She'd had a quiet strength that she'd conveyed whatever she did. She never had to shout to make people listen. She never had to scold you to make you do something. She was the kind of person that inspired the best in others.

Before telling his kids about Rodney, John had called Sarah's parents. They deserved to know what the news would print and broadcast later that night and in the coming weeks—and the questions they might ask about their daughter.

John wasn't really nervous about the call, because they were the kind of people who took everything in stride. But he wasn't quite sure how to reassure them that he'd loved Sarah in his own way and that he thought she'd been quite happy with their life without sounding defensive. In the end, though, Sarah's parents surprised him, just like Sarah had surprised him when she'd told him that she'd be quite comfortable if their relationship wouldn't be about physical intimacy beyond conceiving the children they both wanted.

When John told them that he was going to announce his relationship with a man, Sarah's mother only said, "Oh."

"I want you to know that I loved Sarah," John said. "Our relationship was built on respect and friendship and the same values and hopes."

"That might explain it, doesn't it George?" Sarah's mother said. "We'd always figured she'd come out to us eventually, but then she brought you home and we thought we'd been wrong."

John hadn't known what to say, but he'd felt relieved to hear that her own parents—whom she'd been very close to—thought what John had always felt but never asked. He still couldn't be sure, of course, and a part of him mourned that he'd never have the chance to talk with Sarah about their shared experiences and sacrifices and what other options there were in life for them. John liked to think that she would have supported him right now, whether they'd been divorced at this point or not.

He would never know, though, so he didn't share that hope with either Sarah's parents or his children when he told them about Rodney.

Dave had been surprisingly unsurprised. John didn't think that he'd actually suspected that his father was gay, but he definitely didn't seem to have adjust to the revelation. Julie was a bit perplexed, but mostly about the fact that her father had fallen in love. She'd asked him as far back as a few years ago whether he didn't feel alone.

"I have you," he'd answered, but she'd told him that he needed someone to love like her mother. The fact that this other person turned out to be a man, didn't seem to affect her very much.

They'd talked about Sarah after that, and John had tried to explain that they'd loved each other in their own way. He thought Dave got what he was trying to say, while Julie simply seemed to accept it.

That talk had given him the strength to go through with his decision, and right now, John simply wanted to spend time with them, knowing more than ever that his family was the most important thing in the world to him.

After they'd finished their homework—without John's help—the three of them went back to the living room, where Rodney was still watching the news and Karen was working at a laptop.

Despite Rodney's protests, they watched a few episodes of Batman. John's kids couldn't quite appreciate the classic flair of the show, causing Rodney to rant about mindless—and inaccurate—special effects these days.

Thankfully Dave and Julie weren't offended by Rodney. They'd met on the campaign trail whenever his kids had joined him on weekends. Dave was happy to have a frank discussion with someone who treated him like an adult, while Julie had mostly ignored Rodney's more gruff side. She point-blank asked him, "Do you love my father?" after John had talked with them, and Rodney's heartfelt, "I do," after a moment of surprise at the question, seemed to have eased any issues she might have had about him.

Of course, they were far from being a family at this point, though if things went as badly as Rodney predicted, they'd soon have enough time to really get to know each other.

"Oh," Karen suddenly said from the desk she was working at.

John looked at her. "First poll results?"

"Just keep watching until the episode is over," Karen said.

Rodney paused the episode and gave her a look.

"So bad?" John asked.

"Let's just say, Rodney wasn't far off. Though we're a bit better than he predicted. The latest national poll is 28% for us."

Rodney exhaled and dropped his gaze, before looking at John. Despite his words, he'd obviously thought it wouldn't be quite as bad.

"What are the undecideds?" John asked, hopeful that people hadn't immediately switched their support. But Karen's look told him they weren't in luck.

"Landry's holding at 5% and Mitchell has...Mitchell has 62%," she finished. "But that's just the first poll. People haven't had a chance yet to—"

"It's a disaster," Rodney interrupted her.

"But we're ahead in delegates," Dave pointed out.

"Not far enough," Rodney said.

"So, it's over?" Julie asked.

"No," Karen said.

"We can't really know, dear," John said, putting and arm around her. "There's no precedence for this kind of thing. It could be that once people get used to it, they'll change their minds back."

"Or it could get even worse," Rodney said.

"I don't think so," Karen disagreed. "This is a first poll immediately after it happened. I think people are going with their guts now. And if they stick with John now, we won't lose them. And I think we can win back the others. We just need to remind them of why they supported us in the first place. Let them talk about this tonight, and tomorrow we'll be back on the trail talking about all the reasons why John will be a great president."

"We can be glad if we can make them forget that he's having sex with men," Rodney said. "Well, one man, and strictly speaking—"

"Rodney!" John stopped him, flushing.

Dave looked pretty embarrassed. "This might be a good time to head back to our rooms. Julie?"

"You'll still be here for breakfast?" Julie asked John.

"Yeah, sweety. Goodnight," John said.

His kids got up. On his way out, Dave turned and told John. "You remember what you told me about sex?"

John nodded.

They left, and Rodney raised an eyebrow.

"I told him to always be careful and mindful of what _both_ parties are ready for," John said.

"Believe me, if this goes right, I'll have you begging for it," Rodney said.

"And I'm still in the room," Karen reminded them. "Though I could retreat to my guest room if you want to stay."

"No," John said. "We can go and...I mean..."

"I think what you meant to say was, 'Rodney and I will head to bed now'. True, with no implication as to what we'll be doing, though there's little doubt about that."

Before Rodney could continue, John said, "Goodnight, Karen. Rodney and I will head to bed now."

"Thank you, John. I hope you and Rodney sleep well."

John smirked, and Rodney rolled his eyes, but took John's hand. "Night, Karen," he through over his shoulder, before dragging John to the bedroom.

~~

"The kids' rooms are at the other end of the hall, and the guest room is downstairs, so we don't need to worry about...you know," John said, feeling slightly awkward.

"So, on a scale from 1 to 10, how nervous are you?" Rodney asked.

John looked towards the bed. "About what in particular? It's not my first time...well, not the first time I have sex. And I'm pretty sure getting it up won't be a problem." He was already half-hard just thinking about what they were going to do.

"So you're not nervous at all," Rodney said, smile tugging on his lips.

"Look, this will...once we actually get naked, I don't think I'm going to last very long. I just want to get that out of the way," John said.

"Anything else?" Rodney asked.

"Well...you know I'm not experienced," John said. "But I trust you."

"Is there something in particular you'd like to do today? Or something you _don't_ want to do?" Rodney asked.

"Uhm. I'm good with anything. Well, the, uh, normal stuff," John said, flushing. "Can't we just start and see where it's going?" he asked, desperate to move on from the talking to the action.

"Okay," Rodney said. "I have condoms and lube." He put them on the nightstand. "I'm clean and tested, but the option's there. If you feel we're going too fast, stop me. What I'd like to do is blow you until you come down my throat, and when you're loose and pliant, I'd like to fuck you until you get hard again. How does that sound?"

John stared at him. His pants were getting tight just from Rodney's words.

"I'll take that as, 'That sounds great, Rodney,'" Rodney said. Then he stepped towards John and pulled his face into a deep kiss.

John wrapped his arms around Rodney, sinking into the kiss.

They moved to the bed, and Rodney started undressing John, pulling his shirt out of his pants and unbuttoning it. John moved his hands to his sides to allow Rodney to push the shirt off. When Rodney pulled on his undershirt, John obediently lifted his arms so that Rodney could remove it.

Rodney's gaze fell down to John's chest. The lust in his eyes made John flush.

Rodney put his hands on John's shoulders close to his neck, running his fingers down John's chest to his nipples. John took a breath when Rodney rubbed the tips of his fingers around and over John's nipples. He'd never played with his nipples, hadn't known how sensitive they were.

A smile spread over Rodney's face, and he leaned forward to kiss John, his fingers not stopping their movement on John's chest. Rodney quickly moved on, kissing a path down John's neck towards one nipple.

John exhaled loudly when Rodney sucked on the nipple. Then his tongue got out to play with it, and John gasped, "Rodney," lust shooting straight to his groin.

Rodney sucked on the nipple once more before moving away and telling John, "Lie down."

John obeyed without a word. He got onto the bed, and when he looked at Rodney, he saw that he'd started undressing too. John watched the bared chest, not as hairy as John's, but still undeniably manly. When Rodney dropped his pants, John felt both anticipation and slight trepidation. Soon he would know what it would feel like to be intimate with a man, to be intimate with the person he desired.

Rodney left on his boxers and crawled onto the bed. "Still not nervous?" he asked.

Instead of answering, John moved up, pulled Rodney close by his neck, and kissed him. They settled down on the bed together, kissing. Kissing Rodney was both calming and arousing. Though it clearly shifted more towards the latter when Rodney stroked down John's side and then towards his fly, opening it.

Rodney's hand moved onto his briefs-clad crotch, and John pushed up into it, moaning.

"Let's get naked," Rodney said straight into John's ear.

John could only nod. He let Rodney pull his pants and briefs off, flushing at the obvious approval in his eyes. Rodney stepped off the bed and got out of his boxers, revealing his half-hard dick.

"Like what you see?" Rodney asked.

John quickly moved his gaze up to Rodney's face, realizing he might have been staring. "I do," he admitted.

Rodney crawled back into bed and lay down next to John. Then he took John's hand and moved it to his dick, kissing John again. John didn't do much more than hold Rodney's dick at first, carefully stroking it.

Then Rodney's hand moved between them and he took hold of John's cock. He gripped it firmly, making John groan and thrust forward. John became more bold then, tightening his hold on Rodney's cock. It soon became difficult, though, because Rodney's hand began to work his cock in sure, strong strokes, making John lose all concentration on anything but what Rodney was doing to him.

His cock began to leak precome, and he realized that he was making little noises of pleasure. "Rodney," he whimpered.

Rodney removed his hand from John's dick and pushed him onto his back, before kissing down John's body until his mouth was poised above John's cock.

"I...I don't think I'm going to last long if you...do that," John warned him.

Rodney put his hands between John's thighs, nudging them apart until John made room for him to kneel between John's legs. "That's okay. We have all night," Rodney said. Then he took John's dick back in his hand and leaned forward to suck the head into his mouth.

"Oh God," John said, forcing himself not to thrust forward. Rodney's mouth was... and his tongue... Jesus Christ. He had no idea that his body could feel this way. If he didn't know for sure that spontaneous flight was impossible he would have sworn that the only thing keeping him from floating away on a cloud of pleasure right now was Rodney's hands.

Then Rodney took him deeper, and John could only shout, "Rodney!" before coming, shooting load after load down Rodney's eager throat.

Things became a bit fuzzy after that, but he vaguely realized that Rodney was stroking his thigh and there was kissing on his stomach and his mouth and at some point he was turned around.

Rodney began to kiss his back and ran his hands over John's body, slowly making his way towards John's ass. When Rodney kissed his ass and parted the cheeks, John felt his face flame, but he shifted to spread his legs and lift his ass for Rodney.

Rodney leaned forward over John's back, pressing himself all over John's body. John could feel his hard cock pressing between his ass cheeks. Rodney kissed John's neck before moving to his ear. "Can I fuck you?" he whispered.

"Yes," John panted. He wanted that. He wanted it more than he'd ever allowed himself to do until now.

Rodney moved away for a moment, and when he came back, John felt slick fingers starting to run down the crack of his ass until they reached his hole. Rodney didn't enter him immediately. He stroked around John's hole instead, caressing John until John pushed back, impatiently calling Rodney's name.

"We'll get there," Rodney said. He moved his fingers away, and after a moment John felt a lube covered finger circle his hole before pushing in. Rodney kept pressing until he hit John's prostate. John shuddered as the sensation from Rodney's touch spread through his body.

"Please," he said.

Rodney however moved his finger further and began to stretch John. One finger became two, then three. Rodney kept adding lube and brushed against John's prostate again and again, but he never stayed as long as John wanted.

"Rodney," he eventually pleaded.

Rodney reached around and encircled John's cock. John hadn't realized that he was completely hard again. Feeling Rodney's fingers around him and inside of him, made him squirm.

"Shh," Rodney said. Then he pulled out of John and moved away, making John yearn for his return. He forced himself not to plead again, trusting that Rodney would return to finally give him what he needed.

When Rodney positioned his cock at John's hole, John bit his lips and forced himself to relax. Then Rodney pushed in, and John groaned at the sensation of being filled. Rodney felt huge, but it didn't hurt, and when Rodney started moving, John could only moan.

Finally Rodney's cock rubbed against John's prostate, over and over with every hard stroke, making every part of John's body vibrate in ecstasy.

Rodney was everywhere. His hands were on his body, around his cock. He was deep _inside_ John. He moaned John's name, praising him. "You're so tight. You feel so amazing."

John couldn't form coherent words anymore, only occasionally calling Rodney's name between moans of pleasure.

His body was on fire, consumed by the sensations Rodney invoked in him and filled with the pleasure of being one with the man he'd grown to love. It felt as if they'd melted into one, and John rode the wave of emotion on and on until he broke and came, spasming in Rodney's arms and around his cock, making Rodney push into him a few more times before he came as well.

John hissed when Rodney pulled out, missing the feeling of being filled like that, but at the same time it was as if a part of Rodney was still with him and would always be.

This was what it was like to share yourself with someone in the most intimate way possible. He couldn't put the feelings into words. He felt as if the touch of Rodney would forever linger, even as he realized that Rodney had moved away. "Rodney?" John asked.

"I'm here," Rodney said, climbing back onto the bed and cleaning up John. Then he lay down next to John, looking at him.

John could see the questions in his eyes. Was it good? How was John feeling? But he didn't ask any of them out loud.

John reached out to run a finger along Rodney's cheek. "Thank you," he said.

"It was all you," Rodney said. John felt that a bit of regret swung in Rodney's words.

"It was the right decision," John said. He was more certain of that now than ever. He leaned forward to kiss Rodney.

Rodney returned the kiss, and when John pulled away, he conceded, "I'm not sure I could have waited eight and a half years for this."

John smiled. Rodney got cranky when he had to wait a bit for his first morning coffee. The fact that he'd been willing to wait for this for so long showed how important the campaign was to him. "And we'll keep working. It's not yet over."

"John," Rodney began, but John stopped him before he could finish.

"And even if we don't make it, we'll keep fighting. I'm the same man I was a week ago." He thought about that for a moment. "Well, maybe not exactly. I'm happier now." More complete. He didn't say that, though, because it sounded too sappy. It wasn't as if he'd been incomplete before. But at the same time, John felt a calmness and _rightness_ in his world like never before. And a part of him wanted to believe that others would see that. He wanted to believe that after the first shock wore off, people would look at him and see the same man they'd supported, with a bit more happiness and content, something that should be applauded and not punished.

Well, he could dream.


	4. The Consequences of Principles

John had known that it would be an uphill battle from here on in, but it was still demoralizing to lose primary after primary, caucus after caucus. His lead in delegate count had nearly disappeared, and if things went on like this, it wouldn't be long until Mitchell managed to clinch the nomination.

Their whole campaign team was frustrated. Their polls showed that most people still liked his policies, but every attempt to return the attention to the challenges of the coming presidency failed. It wasn't even that people only talked about him being gay. In fact, Mitchell's campaign had made a supportive statement, re-iterating their support for gay rights, and looking forward to meet the Sheppard campaign on the _issues_.

But even if Mitchell and Landry didn't talk about it, and the Republicans only vaguely emphasized "family values", the fact that John was gay was like the elephant in the room that everyone tried to ignore.

"Fuck!" Rodney shouted when he saw the latest poll numbers, summarizing how they all felt.

"Maybe we should emphasize foreign policy," Karen said. "With things currently—"

"No," Rodney shouted at her. "Nobody is listening to anything we say. We've done nothing but focus on the issues, but all everyone seems to think about is that the guy who could be president likes to suck cock."

John flushed. It was Karen who disagreed with Rodney. "That's not true. Our internal polling shows that only—"

"Only five percent are admitting to switching their support because he's gay," Rodney finished with her. "Of course it's only five percent. A good Democrat would feel bad to admit their own homophobia. And they should! But look at these fucking results," he waved at the monitor. "Ten percent say they are bothered that John 'lied'. That's an excuse and a pretty shitty one at that. But the worst is this," he said, tapping at the screen. "Fifteen percent who admit that they still prefer John as a candidate, but don't think he can win. It's _infuriating_. Of _course_ he can't win, if idiots like them switch their support because of a few cowardly homophobes."

"Rodney," John said, trying to calm him down. "You knew that—"

"Yes, I knew! But it doesn't make me feel better. Forgot those fucking five percent. We could afford to lose them. It's the ten percent that we need. When they come back, so will the rest."

"We've tried everything to push the issues," Karen pointed out.

"Well, it's time to push the issue that matters. We've wanted to talk about what matters, but they're not fucking listening. They can only think about John being gay, so let's talk about that. I'm sick of playing defense. If we don't do anything we'll have lost within the next two weeks. Let's call them out on their fucking homophobia," Rodney said.

"Rodney, if we do that, people will just get defensive. Nobody wants to admit to that. You said it yourself," Karen said.

"I don't give a damn how they'll feel. They abandoned us. Why should we be nice to them? We've lost them already. And we won't get them back until they realize that it's only homophobia that's keeping them from voting for John. You can't change them if you don't tell them what they're doing is wrong." Rodney turned to John. "In the next debate, we won't skirt around this. Forget focusing on the issues. I want you to point out their homophobia. I want you to _demand_ their support or a reason for withholding it."

"This could cost us some of the support we still have," Karen said.

"So what?" Rodney said. "What do we have to lose at this point?"

"Rodney's right," John said. "This _shouldn't_ be about me being gay, but it is and pretending otherwise won't help us. If we can't win this, at least I want people to think about the reason. And I _want_ them to feel bad about it. Because it _is_ bad. And it needs to be said even if people don't want to hear it."

~~

John went into the debate as aggressive as never before. Rodney had only expressed what John had been thinking for a while now. Confronting his previous supporters in this way was risky, but where they stood right now they needed to be open to high risk, high reward strategies because everything else meant admitting defeat. And if he _was_ defeated, he wanted the record to be clear about _why_.

ENDA had been and was his top priority in terms of gay rights. This was the perfect opportunity to force people to talk about how completely unrelated job performance and sexual orientation were, but how it still resulted in firing.

Instead of avoiding his sexual orientation and the dropping support of his campaign in favor of focusing on the issues, John this time emphasized them. The moderator didn't directly address John's coming out, like most media outlets had been careful not to appear homophobic, so John had to make implications in unrelated questions, until he actually outright named homophobia as a reason why people no longer supported him even as they supported his policies.

The moderator finally took the bait.

"Governor Sheppard, you mentioned homophobia as a reason for your dropping support. Surveys, however, have shown that only a small minority have shifted their support because you're gay. For many the issue seems to be what they perceive as a lie."

"It isn't a lie!" John jumped on the question. "Tell me when I ever said I was heterosexual. Point me to the interview or speech or statement where I ever made any comment at all about my sexual orientation."

"You were married," the moderator said. "And not further clarifying implies—"

"Well, it shouldn't! Yes, I never openly declared that I was gay. But I don't recall Governor Landry or Senator Mitchell making a statement about their sexual orientation either. For all I know—and I'm not saying that's the case—Senator Mitchell could be bisexual. Should he have to declare that if it was the case? Of course not! He's very happy with his wife and more importantly, his sexual orientation doesn't affect how he intends to run this country. Yes, I didn't tell the world I was gay before, because it didn't matter. And it still doesn't matter. I also have a great fondness for fast cars, though I never drive them anymore since my wife's death. Should I have made a statement about that? Is there a list somewhere about which information needs to be made available to the public so that you don't 'lie' to them?" John made quote with his fingers.

"This is _not_ about the fact that I didn't come out sooner. That's just an excuse, and what I want to know is for _what_. Yes, I'm gay, but I was before I came out. Does anyone think being openly gay will change my views on foreign policy, the role of our military, the budget? Does anyone think that because I'm with another man I no longer want to improve the abysmal state of our education system or to get us out of the dependency on foreign countries for our energy needs? What is it about coming out as gay that you think changes any of the positions that you supported before. I want to know. I really want to know," John said into the camera, addressing his previous supporters directly now.

"Nothing has changed about me. Nothing except for the fact that I now have another person in my family who's supporting me in what I do. If anything my relationship makes me stronger. I'm sure that Senator Mitchell and Governor Landry can back me up on this. Our partners make us better people. And if you're worried that my relationship will be a distraction because it is new, I can assure you that my focus is on doing the best for my country. I haven't missed a single campaign stop. I haven't cancelled any interviews or debates. Rodney stands by my side and supports me in what I do, and yes, it can be overwhelming at times, but I've learned to do my job during great tragedy. I can assure you I can do it during happiness. If you trusted me to lead the country before knowing I was gay, I ask you to trust me that it doesn't change what I will do as president. And if you can't, then at least be honest about the reason. I think I've earned that honesty."

John wasn't sure if he'd hit the right marks. The moderator thanked him for his answer, when Mitchell asked to speak.

"I want to be clear that I support Governor Sheppard's position on this," he said. "The fact that he's gay should not be the deciding factor in your vote. If you honestly think that his policies are the ones that most closely resemble your own, then you should vote for him."

John heard a few gasps in the audience, and he could imagine Mitchell's team behind the scene cursing. But Mitchell looked over to John and nodded to affirm his statement. He was a good guy. He would be a good president. Not as good as John, but that wasn't in his hands now.

The debate continued, and at the end, as they waved goodbye and the families came out, John took Rodney's hand and kissed him quickly. It was the first time that they'd brought Rodney out after a debate. He'd been slightly more visible at campaign stops since John's coming out, but they'd agreed to limit the public's exposure to actually having to see John with another man. Men especially still seemed to be uncomfortable with the sight of two men kissing, but Rodney had said, "Fuck them. They need to get used to it anyway. The sooner the better."

And if felt good to be able to stand on the stage and not have to act any differently than Mitchell with his wife. For better or worse.


	5. The Nominee

It wasn't enough. John's debate performance that day did turn around the race again. He finally managed to pick up in the polls again. The media picked up the topic and discussed it, and apparently some of John's previous supporters took John's questions to heart and realized that they didn't have a good reason not to vote for him.

John didn't recover all his support, though. And by the time his and Mitchell's poll numbers evened out again, he'd already fallen behind in delegates. And unfortunately the number of delegates that were still to be won had dwindled too much for John to hope that he could further increase his support in time to beat Mitchell.

John had thought that it would feel worse when the last delegates that Mitchell needed to win were called for him in one of the last primaries. But apparently his heart had never believed they could manage to turn this around again. Actually, he was quite content that he'd managed to gain back so much of his support, even if it hadn't been in time to win. The last weeks had proven that people could overcome their homophobia, and that was perhaps the most important thing he'd achieved with his candidacy.

Karen was pretty devastated, though. She was an optimist by nature and had really thought they could still bring the nomination home.

John hugged her. "It's okay. We did much better than anyone would have imagined."

Rodney looked disappointed, though John suspected that he'd crunched the numbers enough and realistically enough to expect this.

"You would have deserved to win," Karen said, tears in her eyes.

"Maybe it's better this way," John said.

Rodney raised an eyebrow at that, and Karen's eyes widened.

"What I mean is, support among Democrats was pretty even in the end, but my numbers against Cowen are just a bit too close for comfort. And if I have to choose between four more years of Cowen and four years of Mitchell, I don't have to think twice about what I prefer."

"You would have won against Cowen," Karen said decisively.

"No, he wouldn't," Rodney said.

Karen gave him a look.

"I know the polling is even between them now, but that's because the Republicans haven't even started their campaign," Rodney said. "Frankly, I think it's probably better that we won't have to endure four months of subtle or not so subtle homophobia."

John nodded. "We have a concession speech, right?" he asked Rodney, who nodded. "I'll throw my full support behind Mitchell. He was more decent during this whole thing that he needed to be."

"Oh yes," Rodney said. "Rumor has it that some on his team nearly walked when he told people to vote for you."

"I can be happy that none of my team walked," John said, smiling at Karen, who smiled back.

"Well, since I was the main benefactor of the speech that ruined your nomination, it wouldn't have felt right," Rodney joked.

John took his hand. "Let's get ready for that speech. And let's fly home tonight or tomorrow morning. I'm going to call Dave and Julie and be with you in a moment." He gave Rodney a quick kiss, and was ready to dial, when Karen's phone rang.

He waited to see if it was maybe Dave. He knew how much the campaign meant to Karen, and John could imagine his son calling to comfort her before he spoke to John. But Karen frowned.

Rodney looked to John, and John shrugged.

"Yes, of course, senator. One moment," Karen said into the phone. She handed the phone to John. "It's Senator Mitchell. He'd like to talk to you."

"You think he'll feel bad enough to return some of the delegates?" Rodney joked to Karen, but John ignored him, and stepped into his own room to take the call.

"Congratulations on the nomination, senator," John said by way of greeting.

"Thank you, governor," Mitchell said.

"I want you to know that you have my full support. We may have our differences in the ways we would have approached the challenges that face our country, but on the substance, I believe we agree in most cases," John said.

"Yes, yes," Mitchell said dismissively. "Listen, John. This is...this is not how I wanted to win."

John didn't know what to say to that admission.

"We both know that you had the nomination in the bag, and that the only reason that I'll be on the top of the ticket is that you happen to be gay and didn't hide the truth," Mitchell said, clearly feeling the injustice of the fact.

However, John focused on something else that he'd said. "The _top_ of the ticket?" he asked, wondering if he imagined the implication of that phrasing.

"Yes, I... Look, before I ask you, I want to make something very clear," Mitchell said. "This is _my_ show. You've been in the military. You know that there can only be _one_ person at the top of the chain of command."

"I know," John said, throat getting dry.

"I might not have won the way I wanted, but I did win," Mitchell continued. "This will be _my_ presidency—if we win—but part of that will be getting the best people I can think of on my team."

John swallowed. Mitchell was offering him a place on the ticket. He wouldn't get top billing, and John understood perfectly what Mitchell was saying. He wouldn't just be a stand-in for John, allowing John to be elected despite losing the nomination. And John wouldn't have expected anything else. "I would be honored to be a part of your team," he said.

"I'd like you to be my vice-president, John," Mitchell said. "I'll still reach for the stars, but if we can't get that far, then people will know that compromise will be possible."

"I think I can be persuaded that sometimes you need to reach for the stars," John said, smiling widely.

~~

"What did he want?" Karen asked, as soon as John joined them again.

"Oh god," Rodney said, staring at John.

John grinned and nodded at him.

"Mitchell—Sheppard 2012?" Rodney asked.

"I'm afraid we won't be flying home tomorrow after all," John said. "God, I need to call Dave and Julie. And there'll be a press conference." He handed Karen back the phone. "Someone will be in touch."

As if on cue, the phone started ringing. Karen only nodded at him, smiling, then took the call. John turned to Rodney.

"Looks like we'll be busy after all for the next eight and a half years," he said.

Rodney snorted. "He really wants to announce it today? He doesn't even want to think about it?"

"I'm pretty sure he thought about this before today," John said. "And he made it clear that this will be _his_ presidency. It's not just guilt if that's what you're thinking. Mitchell isn't _that_ decent a guy."

"Actually, I thought about what Republicans will make of you on the ticket," Rodney said.

John considered that for a moment. "I don't think it will stop Mitchell from winning. He's young. The choice of vice-president is important, but let's face it, it's not me they're going to vote for—or not vote for."

"I think you're right," Rodney said. "I _hope_ you're right," he added. "I've got some new numbers to crunch. And I need to change a few of our positions I suppose."

"Reaching for the stars is our new motto," John said with smirk.

Rodney rolled his eyes, then he smiled at John. "You know, I think when you made that decision you did. That wasn't the choice of a pragmatist."

"Maybe not," John conceded. "Though, I'll be honest with you. I expected us to lose after that. I was willing to pay that price."

"And look how it turned out," Rodney said.

John nodded. "I get to keep campaigning. And I get to keep you."

Rodney raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a possession, you know."

"I do know," John said, pulling Rodney into his arms. "But you're still mine, and I'm yours. And I'm glad that I won't have to hide that fact. This is the best I could have hoped for." He kissed Rodney. "And in eight years, I think we'll be in pretty good shape to try this again."

"President John Sheppard. I think I can wait eight more years for that. And I admit it will be a lot easier when we can be together until then," Rodney said, running his hands down John's back.

"Uhuh," John agreed, kissing Rodney again, more deeply now.

A phone snapped close, and Karen informed them, "We need to catch a flight."

"Just let me call Dave and Julie quickly," John said, leaving one arm around Rodney while he pulled out his phone.

"You can do it on our way," Karen said, collecting her stuff. "Actually, we might want to fly them in too. This is a big moment for them too."

John considered that, when Rodney's eyes suddenly widened. "What _is_ the male term for First Lady?"

Karen laughed. "Have you even proposed to John yet?" she asked.

Rodney spluttered.

"Give us time," John said to her, then turned to Rodney. "And in eight years, you'll make a great First Gentleman."

Rodney flushed. John hoped that he was right. Because if he was, he'd really have done what he'd always dreamed about. For himself and his country.

John couldn't wait to make it happen.


End file.
